


The King and his Merlin

by canwecallit



Series: Camelot [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur survives the lake, Canon Era, M/M, POV Outsider, Royal dynamics, Secrets, Set after the series end, Staff dynamics, they spread fast in a castle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26086288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canwecallit/pseuds/canwecallit
Summary: The Pendragon Keep estate is the furthest of Camelots' castles, left solely functional by it's staff. When word arrives that the King and another will be staying, they strive to discover who this ambiguous Merlin is to the King and therefore, themselves. Secrets flare and spread fast in a castle such as this one - so it's best to keep them hidden.-Set after the series where Arthur survives and both him and Merlin are trying to understand their new dynamic, as the King and his Merlin. Told from outsiders' POV but very focused on that relationship.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: Camelot [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893943
Comments: 73
Kudos: 412





	1. an abrupt arrival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after the end of the series where Merlin is revealed to have magic and Arthur survives the attack on his life - here they are working out the new dynamic of their relationships in what they think is a discreet manner. Hope you enjoy!

Steward Iselda had held the keys to The Pendragon Keep estate since they were handed to her as a younger woman by King Uther himself. It had been a conquered estate, as the Camelot borders pushed over the fields and onwards, expanding during his war on sorcery. She had made her peace with it’s distance from Camelot and become fond of the sprawling fields and dimly lit villages, though the people within them weren’t often fond of her or the Wardens’ decisions. This estate was as held together as her tightly wound hair, poked and prodded to perfection from the well trained staff in the bellows of the kitchen, to the highest of the towers she would slam the door open to and find, most likely, two shocked servants. 

To her dismay, it was not often that the estate could be seen in it’s well kept glory. Since the keys had been handed to her, there had only been three royal visits. King Uther on his victory and seeking new alliances across a border had stayed, then again with Queen Ygraine and years later, the final visit with King Uther and his knights - the memory of that last visit still caused angered cries in the village. It had been years, no knights or visiting lords, no royalty to speak of. The hallways had become dusty with disuse, curtains barely drawn in most rooms, doors creaking with little need of upkeep. She brushes her strand of greying hair behind her shoulder, turning the corner on a yellowed book when the peace is disturbed by a page. 

“The King is coming!” 

Steward Iselda rises with haste and shock. That is, she rises to smack her book on the arm of the page, well used to these jests. “I’ve long tired of these jokes.” The page grabs for her arm, pale and shaking his head. 

“It is no joke! The King stopped on the outlying village and sent word ahead that he would be staying here!” The page ensures, Iselda lays her book closed, further straightening her neat black work dress. 

“How many is in his party?” She demands, striding into the hallway.

“Two.” She turns to stare at him, prompting. “I swear it! He rides with only one other. They claim to be here by afternoon.”

Then it would be the King and Queen, visiting the estate as King Uther and Queen Ygraine had. “Send word to the servants that they are to prepare a room immediately, and then to the Wardrobe staff to retrieve and refresh the stored clothes. Once that is done, alert the kitchen staff and put on hold any other estate business. I want fires stoked in all the main rooms, now go.” The page would run on his spindly legs in a hurry. 

Afternoon was close calling and Iselda makes no waste of the given time, correcting posture and manners as she harries on staff to their duties. She alerts the Warden of the arrivals and they confer over petitions, should the King wish to see them, along with estate business and pleas. They trade a wary look over the pile of papers, time had built them near tall as the tower. “He’s visiting with the Queen?” The Warden asks and at her nod, begins to file them back into drawers. “He won’t be looking for these.”

Iselda returns to her desk to work, leaving the door open so the staff may update on their progress. The afternoon had dipped into darkness as had her mood, sending for the page, waiting for him with crossed arms. The palid boy shuffles under her glare. “I warned you, I am not fond of jests.”

“It is not jest, I swear it-”

“The King and Queen are here!” Came a call from the hallway, making Iselda stride past the page and peg down her black cloak from it’s hanger to fend off the rain outside. It splatters harsh and sideways on the ground, a rumble masking any approach of hooves and shading sight of horses. From the night, two rain soaked cloaks emerge upon their dark majestic mounts, indeed the bridles and saddles had marks of Camelot. 

“Welcome His Majesty, to the Pendragon Keep estate.” She calls against the rain, waving forward the grooms to steady the horses as they dismount in sync, eager to escape the weather. Inside, the cloak of the King drops and there is a lightning flash of excitement in the foyer - the storm within his blue eyes, his hair gold as his crown surely was though it is absent from his regally held head. As his hood falls, the other soon follows and … it is not the Queen.

A tangle of cropped black hair framed sharp cheekbones and his thick eyelashes flickered water away from his blue eyes. Iseldas’ hands tighten as she races through the proper address for this man, hearing no chainmail to indicate he was a Knight. His smiling lips conversing naturally with a few shocked staff in light laughter, discussing comforts for the King. _A servant then?_ When his cloak falls, she dismisses that upon seeing the fine clothes that he wore, certainly ranks above a servant, the material thick and warm for travel. 

Shocked from thoughts, she repeats her welcome and the King gives a half smile, patting at his wet hair and taking an offered towel. “Thank you.” The staff near trips back at the acknowledgement. “Sorry for not sending a sooner notice, it was quite a last minute decision. Merlin, here.” He throws the towel towards the other mans’ face who doesn’t catch it in time, to the Kings’ delight. 

“My lord, if I may beg your forgiveness - we have only prepared one room. We mistakenly believed it was the Queen whom you would be arriving with.” A stillness overcomes the two, sharing a tight glance and she understands that the Queen was not knowing of their visit. “We will make up another room at once.” 

“Don’t worry about the room, we’ve already kept you up late. It can keep until tomorrow.” It is not the King who speaks, but the confusing man who steps beside him. “For tonight, could you show the King to his chambers and myself to the kitchens?” The King had remained still until this point, but the mans’ hand skims down his forearm in a quick halting motion. 

Unsure of his position still, she reminds, “We have staff available to attend-”

He shakes his head, sending droplets onto the floor. “Please don’t strain yourselves, I’ll attend to the King tonight.” 

_He speaks for the King, in his presence!_ Shocked but taking this in stride, she waves forward Aileen. “My lord, I will take you to your chambers immediately. Aileen shall show … shall take you to the kitchens.” It was a brief fumble but mightily embarrassing for her, to still not know the title or rank of this Merlin. 

With a well maintained pace, she leads the King to his rooms, opening the door to see with pride that everything was meticulously managed and steps aside for the King to enter. He looks over the room with little interest, though he pauses on long shadows made by the candles and herds himself near to the fire to warm. “This was my fathers’ estate. Did he stay in this room?” The King asks, rubbing his roughened hands close to the flames.

“They were his estates and he did stay in this room with the Queen on his visit, my lord.” As one of the standing points of history of the Pendragon Keep estate, Iselda was ready to expound on whatever point the King desired. 

“My mother came here too…” She notices he soothes over a large ring on his right hand, one over from his wedding band. “What did they do together?” His eyes are imploring from his crouch and she hurries to move a chair to his side, he leans in it to keep close to the fire. 

“My lord, their visit was near thirty years ago, please forgive my poor recallings. As I remember it, they spent their days on rides in the fields and forests. They feasted with their knights in the hall and paid the local entertainment grandly.” The sum of money had lasted that bard many years in the village. “They were happy with their stay, my lord.” 

The King smiles, distantly. 

“Arthur!” The door swings open though she’s not sure how it was managed, given the boy was standing with a tray between his hands and dry cloaks over his arm. How could they be dry, when the Kings’ own clothes were still wet despite being near the fire? He must notice her look as he sweeps the cloaks away to a hook further in the room, shoving the tray of food on the Kings’ lap that he balances with an annoyed grunt. 

“Merlin, I’ve learnt the entire history of this castle since you went down to the kitchens.” The King plucks at a wing of chicken, eating it heartily as he cowed the man. 

“When I told them how much you eat, they had to make a new batch.” The man quips back, not sounding phased at all by the Kings’ remark on his lateness. He leans over the Kings’ shoulder and pinches a wing of chicken for himself, slouching into the other available chair with a teasing look in his eyes. “Had to run after the chickens myself.” 

Then Iselda has the bizarre moment of watching the King of Camelot throw a stripped bone of chicken at Merlin. It’s then they realise they aren’t alone and the King smiles, momentarily distracted. “Thank you, Iselda. You may leave us.” 

Iselda bows and closes the door tight, hearing the laughter from within that must have been held until she left. Curious eyes she meets around the corner, hoping for a hint of information for the Kings’ visit and she cannot, would not if she had it, give any. The King and this Merlins’ arrival was unknown to her but she would not let the castles’ duties slip within their stay, waving the waiting away with a firm motion. 

“Will Merlin be joining us in the servant quarters?” Aileen asks, a fold of new sheets in her arms. This too, she cannot give an answer for and leans on the wall heavily in view of Aileen. She can see her concern and wipes back her falling grey hair strand. “Make up a bed for his use and have someone in the halls tonight to guide him there, should he ask.” He’d seemed quite comfortable in the Kings’ quarters though and if he was to stay there then there’d be no halting of the rumours among the staff. It would be embarrassing to treat staff like royalty but it would be ever more embarrassing, perhaps in danger of execution, to assume a royal member was staff. This middle ground she takes, hoping a night’s rest will clear the air. 

Before she sleeps, she opens a cracked black ledger and next to the date, writes: _King Arthur of Camelot and Merlins’ first arrival to the castle._ She hesitates in writing the latter name for if he was a serving boy, putting his name so close to importance of the King would be a shame. Below, she details what had occurred within the eve of the castle as it closed for the night but it does not leave her head on the pillow.

Who is this Merlin, to the King?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever work for Merlin as I've fallen back in love with it during this time - I absolutely THRIVE off comments and I'll only ask 2029892893892 times for you to leave one lmao (they really do keep momentum going so if you enjoyed any part of this or would like an update, please let me know! anything will help!)


	2. unseen creases

Aileen awakens and immediately turns to look at the bed left for Merlin in the serving quarters, still made and untouched. He was a royal then, to have his own room in the household? She stretches and as she prepares for serving, sees the Steward come in and rumple the sheets of the unused bed. They catch eyes and Aileen is beckoned forward, pushing her hair into place. 

"Merlin did not sleep here last night." She informs the Steward who nods with a tight jaw and a hushed reply. 

"You are to keep appearances, here and in the adjourning room to the Kings, that both chambers have been used. You alone, must attend the rooms and not speak of what you see." The Steward grabs her arm tight with a hint of desperation and Aileen pats it. Iselda was not this stressed without cause. 

"I will go tend to them now." She assures, bustling up the stairs with great speed only to approach the Kings room hesitantly. She wrings her hands before knocking lightly, and again to no answer. Unlocking the door she slips inside, greeted by a haphazardly cleared table - two plates stack atop each other, a cloth listfully thrown over the remaining food. It was the type of cleaned room Iselda would have many complaints for. Quietly and quick she begins to stack it all properly onto the tray, moving cutlery when a dark and light shape frightens her to clutch the fork to her chest in wide eyed defence. 

The rumpled dark haired man who greeted her cheerfully unlike any Lord or Knight before, is the same from last night - though divested from his finely made tunic. He blinks in rapid confusion at her, before a smile breaks out. "Oh!" He exclaims into the quiet, throwing a look over his bare shoulder to the King in bed. 

"Sire." She greets quickly averting her eyes back to her task, though she sees Merlin wave away the title. 

"None of that Aileen, my name is Merlin as I said last night."

"Merlin." She greets instead, the plates now on the tray and her attention on the scattered food on the floor. Merlin settles at a chair as she works and unlike the Lords before, his eyes aren't lingering on her as she brushes crumbs off the table nor as she bends to pick mess from the floor - instead he is looking through the slight partition at the sleeping King. 

"I still can't believe it." She says unconsciously and Merlin turns to her. 

"I know, he's a lazy sod. Doesn't wake up unless a warning bell is going off." It's casual yet endless in its implications. He could call the King of their lands a lazy sod near his existence and say with confidence he wouldn't wake from deep sleep?

"Sire." There's a question in the word alone. "Would you like me to bring the King and yourself breakfast?" Merlin shakes his head, getting up with a bounce.

"If you don't mind waiting I'll help carry the plates down, and bring some food back for him." Aileen nods accepting of this strange request and is gestured to sit, on the Kings' seat! She's a bit thrilled, if confused on Merlins' position to offer such a thing. She waits politely as the man hums around, lifting piles of fabric to find a shirt. He eventually opens one trunk to find a hoarde of dresses, she realises they hadn't been moved since the assumption of the Queens' arrival. He closes that lid quietly and fetches a new one from the other waiting trunk, the lid closing with a heavy thud. 

"Hm?" the King snorts, sleepily lifting his head and Merlin goes over to him as he pulls on the new shirt. The Kings' head is barely raised off the pillow, watching, before Merlins' hand soothes over his brow.

"It's just me Arthur." There are some unspoken private words in the look he gives the King, and while Aileen can't see the full reaction, the dropping back of his head to pillow with a grumble says it enough.

"Where's breakfast?" Aileen springs to her feet, already a hand on the door as Merlin replies.

"I'm getting it with Aileen, rest a little more. You made us ride a lot yesterday, prat." His soothing hand becomes a shove, a weak defiance of having done such riding. Then he's yawning and at Aileens' side and waiting for her to just... dismiss everything she saw. "The Kings' breakfast?" Merlin reminds after a moment and she jumps, nods, races down the halls while keeping nervous conversation. 

She arrives unnoticed in the busy kitchens but they do start hesitantly bowing to Merlin. It's hard for them to understand his rank among them, his position to the King and therefore themselves. "I'm just here to take up the food." 

Aileen grabs a fresh tray of breakfast goods and gives it to him, enough for them both to eat. "Will you need help getting back?" He shakes away the offer, giving a friendly tip of his head and a smile as he disappears back up the castle to his Kings' room. 

-

She walks in shock with food to the stables, brought out of it by a kiss from her lover. 

"So, what did you find out?" Reeve asks, biting off a piece of bread and humming in delight. "I swear the cooks don't really cook until there's a guest about." Aileen laughs to her love, holding the now empty tray against her side. 

"I went to the King's room and Merlin was there." As if she still can't believe her own eyes. 

"The King made him sleep on the floor?" Reeve asks, chewing the bread with a smile as she thinks.

"I... couldn't tell. I didn't see any blankets or pillows on the floor."

"Poor boy, might not have got anything." Aileen nods, skimming her hands nervously on the rim of the tray.

"The weather's not getting warmer, I'll offer some more blankets. Hopefully the King won't have need of them and could give them to him." Her love nods agreeingly, patting down the mare as it whinnies. "It's strange." Aileen voices after a moment, Reeve glances over her shoulder as she continues grooming. " It's just... the way he speaks of the king, to the king, for the king. if he was a servant he'd be hanged."

"Not a servant then." Reeve summarises easily, but she shakes her head, not finding it so. 

"He greeted me when they arrived, he remembered my name and apologised for not clearing up the plates last night. Then he came with me to the kitchens to get the Kings' food."

Reeve had all her attention on her now, an equally bemused look. She taps the fence with her horse brush, sparking a reminder. "He mentioned they may fetch the horses today, for a ride." Her love nods. "You've got sharper eyes, maybe you'll work it out. I'll just keep calling him sire for now I suppose." Aileen laughs and so does her love, reaching over the low fence to pull her in for a goodbye kiss. She must attend to the empty room beside the Kings' and Reeve must attend the horses should the King and his... Merlin, want them today.

-

"Your majesty." Reeve greets the King, for who else could stride so confidently around, with a low bow. She had tended the horses last night and as such, was struck now by them both in the overcast sky and its' shadows. "Your mounts are rested, watered, fed and bridled."

"And your own mount?" The King asks, pulling on a pair of leather gloves as Merlin leads out their horses. Reeve can't place his question. 

"Forgive me your majesty, I don't understand-" 

"What did you ask for Merlin?" The King demands as he snatches the reigns from the other man as he stares like a newborn foal in realisation. 

"I said we might take the horses out for a bit. I didn't mention we would also need a guide." Merlin swings his head slowly to meet the Kings' unimpressed look, darkening with the man's grin. "We would very much need a guide for the uh, fields." Merlin waves vaguely towards the sprawling land, smiling to Reeve. She holds back an expression that could rival the Kings'. 

She leaves them whispering as she fetches her steed, alarmed to see she was already in her gear. Had she not removed them the night before? A muttered and confused apology, Reeve mounts her saddled horse and trots quickly to the waiting men. "What would your majesty like to see of his estate?" 

"The surrounding villages - I understand they come here with petitions."

Reeve nods readily. "They do, your majesty."

"Are they often met with, are they satisfied by the outcome?" The King presses clearly seeking a true answer, which she'd have provided without it. 

"Many petitions come for reparations made by King Uther during his crusade against magic. A lot was destroyed in our villages - homes, livelihoods, accusations of sorcery." Reeve notices the silence but keeps her steed moving steadily. "Harm was done by both sides on the villagers and the impact remains strong here."

"I see. We will visit the villages another day." He doesn't speak with disgust, either familiar or not at all with the stench of farm and fields in the villages. "What of the druid camps?" 

Her tongue catches in her mouth knowing she can not lie to the King. "Our town does not have contact with the druid camps anymore, as is the law, my lord."

"Where are they?" Merlin asks this time but her answer is short. 

"I do not know. Only those that visited before the crusade would be able to show you." The crusade was over thirty years ago but they would remember. She withholds her own history of the druids, as it hadn't been directly asked for. Aileen and herself, lost and injured in the woods alone, coming across a peaceful druid camp who soothed their sorrows and righted their hurts. They'd been pointed to the Pendragon Keep from a break in the woods and their thanks had been to air - still, they made the journey once a month back to that space with food and supplies in gratitude. 

They trot with light conversation until the fields stretch beyond the band of forest they'd passed through. 

"Will this do?" The King asks of Merlin. 

"I preferred the sixth identical field, actually." The King doesn't have to voice his disapproval. "Any of them will be fine, Arthur." He says before clicking his horse out of the trees and cantering across the fields. 

"Wait here for our return." The King instructs, taking off after Merlin. She waits until the hooves fade from her ears before dismounting, tying her reigns lightly to a tree. She pushes herself into the higher branches - for the view it gives of the two, she hopes no one followed them so far out. 

The threat of rain hadn't deterred them from riding under the heart of it. The wheat yellow and coarse to their knees, flattening as they sit down in it. Alone in a field, she remarks it as a private moment but doesn't look away. Especially not when the wheat begins to inexplicably grow around them, a shield of yellow hiding them from view. A flicker of orange at the center and a spiral flame lights the head of each stalk on fire. Before she can call for help, the rumbling cloud above them funnels rain like a pippet dropper onto the burning stalks, a flash storm that recedes as black smoke plumes. That too disappears with a gust of sudden, strong wind over the circle revealing the two men. 

The King looks at Merlin, and the King drops his head with a shake. 

Merlin caused that. She settled with the thought. By all accounts she should run to the hills, calling for the Marshall to execute Merlin on sight in accordance with the Kings' law. Yet that final, eternal judgement of a man who could condemn many to die for him, had his head bowed. Acting as unsurprised as the horses chewing golden straw either side of them. It's horrifying but she is eager for the Kings' decision. Would he run him through with a sword? Would he leave him bloodied and wounded for the druids to find, as many accused of magic had been? 

Her fist clenched to think that the King did not fall far from the rotten family tree. 

The villages had truly not recovered from the reign of King Uther, her family and friends destroyed by the tirade on magic. Now it was being shown to his son and he… his head was still bowed, a storm of emotions building. Merlin sits quiet and peaceful as the stalks, black hair moving in time with the wind and sometimes before, one with the earth and elements surrounding him. She had laid broken and devastated under the healing touch of a druid and still this moment, a sad King unable to meet a peaceful sorcerers eyes, broke her heart. 

The King gets up all at once, turning to climb his mount and ride it away leaving Merlin. She doesn't spare another glance, jumping down from the tree and sitting at its' base, pointed away and hidden from view. She rips wheat stalks in half, waiting for them to return, looking towards the castle they kept warm for the King and Merlin. 

She would return to Aileen, quiet about the magic she'd seen, but openly profess she was none the wiser to who Merlin is - even if she now knew  _ what _ . 

-

"Will this really be enough? I can fetch more." Aileen asks in confusion, heaving the single bucket of water into the Kings' chambers. Merlin had only asked for one and she wonders in his mishap servitude, if he'd drawn a bath before. 

"It'll be enough, thanks Aileen." Merlin shares a smile with her, sleeves rolled up looking the part of a servant as she left. She had left fresh towels in the hall and hurries back to the room with them, finding the bath had near filled with water and steaming. She edges inside with shock, it hadn't been nearly five minutes since she'd left! "How did that happen?" She asks shakily, reaching a hand towards the steam but her wrist is lightly held by Merlin, who her eyes fling to. 

"It's hot, I wouldn't touch it."

"I only brought one bucket of water up, how is the tub almost full now?" Aileen frets, looking to Merlin in confusion as he flounders for words. A shadow falls over the door and she pulls her hand free, hurrying to leave as the King enters, her panicked eyes only on the floor. She wouldn't question Merlin in front of the sovereign as surely he would be executed, instead she leans against the closed door to wait for her heart to calm. 

"What was that about?" The King asks, feet moving steadily on the stone as his clothes begin to drop. Merlin, the sorcerer, was still in there! Her hand lingers on the handle again, concerned whether to confront Merlin in her fright. 

"I made you a bath."

"Lovely it is too." The King sighs, sinking into the water and some tumbles to the floor. 

"From only one bucket." He had confessed his crimes! Now the King would know and she would have to play no part in revealing Merlin. There's no accusations inside but the patter of water on the ground and a stool dragging closer to the tub. 

"Did she see you?" The King asks, level and seemingly unaffected by this shocking reveal. 

"About five minutes after she brought in the bucket-" 

"Merlin. Did she see  _ you _ ?" There's a wringing sound of cloth and a slap of fabric on skin, presumably Merlin washing the Kings' back. 

"No." The shared relief carries in the room. 

"I bring you to my furthest castle, to the middle of a field so no one can see and you almost get caught filling a bath." It was stress tuned so fine with disbelief that it drew laughs from them both. It fades and though the atmosphere is light, the words are thick with meaning."You have to be careful Merlin. Nothing has changed yet." 

In the resulting quiet, she comes to realise that the King knew of Merlin being a sorcerer but still he kept laws in place against magic of any kind. It's wrong she thinks firmly, for such harmless domestic magic to be a death sentence - that the King knew if Merlin was found to have used such eternal power for something as small to him as a bath, then he'd send him to death. She holds back her tears, convinced there would never be a kind ruler in Camelot, and waits for a smatter of servants to pass in the hallway to leap away from the door. 


	3. ring around the roses

"You didn't find out anything?" The Steward asks, disbelieving as she looks between the standing Aileen and Reeve. The latter held unnaturally steady while the first was practically twitching with secrets. She sighs in discontent. "I know you are both holding from me."

Reeve must have seen something on the ride and Aileen something in her room tending chores, speaking in distressed cryptic words to each other until the Steward had blown out the candles in the serving quarters last night. 

"If I may be excused, the King has asked for the horses today as well." Reeve speaks and Iselda dismisses her, wanting not to keep the King in waiting. She notices the Grooms' hand brushes the anxious Aileens' while departing and focuses her sights on the maid. 

"I'll be tending the rooms today." Aileens' voice is meek, her hands curling into the pleats of her dress. It would be a chance to seek out any clues as to Merlins' true nature and when the cantering of three horses fade from the courtyard, she follows the fumbling Aileen into the Kings' room. 

Presiding over the cleaning, she can see not much change in the room. The chairs by the fire were close together, there was a wooden stool seated behind the head of the bath, one closed trunk and the other open and overspilling to the floor. She moves to tuck them back in, when the bed comes into view. The wooden four poster had extra blankets at its foot, the extravagant pillows overlapping both had dented impressions of heads. The rumpled duvet suggested one got up earlier and dragged the other from the warm cocoon. 

She keeps her mind blank of accusations, using her own cloth to swipe at the bedside drawer handles. On habit, she opens it and finds to her horror, two rings staring back at her. One was the larger ring the King had made glint by the fire the other, was his wedding band. She shuts the drawer with haste, shocked again when the drawer on the other side of the bed held within it a royal seal. Not any seal either - Queen Ygraines'.

She swipes a palm over her forehead. The King had come here with a man who held a royal seal, removed both his mother's and wedding ring and left them beside the bed the men were sharing. Whatever was happening here, was so deep with history, she finally understands that they never will know what has occurred between them. Her duty is to protect the King, and the secrets he created in the estate, the castle was not large - word spread quickly and lingered for years. 

Merlin had a royal seal that meant he was precious to the King, in some way. With the removed wedding band, she could only hazard a guess as to how precious, if it was above reminder of the Queen. It could not leave the safety of these chambers. "Aileen. You are not to touch the drawers or the bedside tables under any reason. The surfaces may be cleaned but you are not to see what is inside." For some reason, Aileen looks terrified but nods all the same. The girl did have an active imagination veered in terror, and had found some horrifying things in bedside drawers before - had gotten in trouble for it to. 

"If you don't clean these rooms, remind anyone that does the same thing." It's firm, she moves on to deal with the rest of the castle to distract herself from business that was not her own.

-

The King and Merlin are in the village, flitting between blacksmiths and farmers to chat. Reeve watches them with a tankard of mead by their horses. The golden haired man is charming and not as condescending as she might have thought, he appears to listen well, occasionally turning to Merlin who stands just behind his shoulder on the right. 

They were a team. The King would make the approach to a villager with a greeting, but despite his manners could not blend with the talk at all - which is where Merlin would step in, lighting up the faces with familiar farm or stock or feed talk. The King never failed to look impressed, as if he were finding out anew. Sometimes the villagers and Merlin got carried away, the blacksmith pulling him closer to see how to strike the hot metal, the farmer pointing to his ailing pigs in distress - until the King politely clears his throat to Merlins' sheepish smile, tugging the questions back on track. 

Reeve holds out a tankard to Merlin when he approaches, shaking his jacket from the heat of the forge. "You've got many talents." He laughs and heartily takes his drink. "It's a shame the King can't see them all." Merlin stares down and swirls his tankard, smiling to her. 

"I wouldn't be much of a magician if I showed all my tricks now, would I?" He says cheerfully and she wonders if he knows how true the statement is. "If I only had the talent to get his lazy ass on time, or prod him with a sword when he's turning into a prat."

"Sounds like you are dangerous to be on the wrong side of." Her eyebrows raise and he huffs. 

"Arthur would be the first to tell you I'm a danger to myself, and I'd have difficulty hurting a fly." He dismisses it and perhaps, with his kind smiles and nature, she'd have believed it. But she had seen the elements and the King bow their heads to his power. 

"You are, dangerous." Reeve repeats, her eyes following his to the golden sun of the King. "But you would only be dangerous for him."

"You know?" Merlin asks hoarsely after a silence. 

"I know what it is to love." It's not the question he asks, a shadow falling across his blue eyes. "I know what it is to become dangerous for it." The King had stopped, his sleeve tugged by a young girl who squirms in delight when he plucks a daisy and pushes it behind her ear. "I know danger when I see it." She turns more insistently to Merlin, her eyes knowing and grave. "He's the King."

"He wouldn't hurt me." Merlin defends instantly. 

"The Law says otherwise." Reeve returns without a beat. She does not want to see this kind man die, as he surely would in Camelot when he returns. He's too close to his feelings to the King to realise that who he's dangerous for, is his own doom. "I know where the druid camps are, at least where the entrance is. They can hide you. You can escape."

"Escaping my destiny is what usually causes these problems." Merlin laughs without humour, his eyes dark and pondering. 

"And your destiny is to die at his hands?" Reeve goes breathless by the look he gives her - steady, determined. Decided. There isn't anything in the world he wouldn't do for his King, including being killed by him. If she wasn't in love herself, she'd have thought him insane. "What are you, to him?" 

Merlin takes his time to answer. He let's condensation pool on his fingers, flicking the droplets away like sand. He has the same worn hands as Aileen, rubbed raw by scrubbing water and the heat of hot pans. Magic may have scarred him the same way, forming thin lines of exertion on his palms and bruises to his knuckles. 

"I'm his. However he would want me now."

Iron brackets over his wrists, chaining him to the King to do with as he pleased. Reeve taps their tankards together in commiserations. "Til death do you part."

Though morbid it does light laughter in his eyes again and he grins, finishing off his mead. 

"Don't drink too much Merlin, else you'll ride yourself into a ditch. Not that it would be the first time." The King comments, his hand placed just above the hilt of his sword on his hip. 

"I'm drinking my sorrows away." Merlin replies, wiping at his now pouting mouth. "How come you never put flowers behind my ears?" 

"What?" 

"That little girl, you put flowers behind her ears all for tugging your sleeve. I have to lug you out of bed and dress you and all I get is my ears half deafened from your shouting!" Reeve hides her smile into her next drink. If he could talk this way to the King, maybe she shouldn't worry. 

"You're right." The King looks solemn, swaying as he frowns at the ground. 

"I'm - what?" It hadn't been the response Merlin expected, clearly. It's offbeat as if this isn't their usual banter. 

"For too long I've not shown my appreciation for you. Please, allow me to do so now." The King leans down to the earth in a motion as if to grab flowers, instead he rises with a handful of dirt and smears it behind a shocked Merlins' ear. 

He's one of the most powerful magic users she'd ever seen and he was letting this happen, warmth, understanding and a little bit of trepidation as if this was them before the King knew - and that's why he'd done it now. Nothing had changed for them, even if everything had. 

"Oh yeah, thanks." Merlin bats away the Kings' hand, feeling around his ear. "I was going grey there from all the stress you put me through. It's nice and covered now." His eyes linger in concern on the Kings' hairline, enough that he uselessly tries to look too. "You've got something, oh Arthur, look." He sounds devastated, and she watches as he picks out a golden hair and turns it grey before their eyes. 

"Merlin!" The King sounds furious but not at the joke, looking to Reeve in panic. She feels herself stutter under that intense gaze and isn't sure what to do. 

"I can put it back?" Merlin laughs, twirling the lock in his fingers. He goes to push it back to the Kings' head but a strong hand wraps over and halts his wrist, his jaw tight with his head staring at Reeve. 

"I know." She manages, pushing past her fear of admitting any sort of knowledge to the King. His fury doesn't ebb, fingers readjusting on Merlins' wrist like a manacle. 

"She knows." The words are careful in ambiguity to Merlin, who doesn't seem the least bit tense unlike them. Almost, defiant. As if it were his decision to who he shared his truth, tired of hiding or escaping, his hardest hurdle had been the King - anyone else now was a fair fight. 

The Kings' grip loosens until it's no more than a light hold on Merlins' wrist who appears to hold it back. "You really don't know the meaning of subtle, do you?" 

But Reeve thinks with how many secrets Merlin appeared to keep from the King for so long, he was a master of it. 


	4. dismal downpour

The storm breaks again in the morning, sheets of rain blanketing the fields in mist and mud. The windows in the kitchens rattle from the ferocity, the flames harder to fan in the frigid cold seeping inside. Iselda oversees and directs but diverts from the usual when she takes the tray of food from Aileens' hands. She dismisses the questions by turning pointedly for the stairs. 

The door to the Kings' chambers had been left ajar and she uses her foot to open it wide enough for her to slip into the room. The two occupants hadn't noticed her, trading soft words by the warm fire. Their arms lay just so on the chair rests, that a slightest influence would have tangled their fingers. 

"Again?" The King asks, an uncertain hope in his voice. 

"You really are entertained by the smallest things." Merlin laughs, but tips his head towards the fire. In an insolent way, he commands, "Poke the fire then."

The King rises and holds the fire poker in his hands like a sword, to which Merlin snorts. He pokes at the flames and in what must be her tired hallucinations forming, a dragon made of ash and sparks crawls up the poker and fans hot air over the Kings' knuckles like a kiss. 

She drops the tray onto the table and both men swing to face her, the King pointing the poker at her heart. "I didn't mean to frighten you, my lord. The door was open." 

"Iselda!" The King exclaims, repeating her name in a hiss to Merlin. He stores the fire poker back in its holster. "What are those?" 

She quickly bows and holds out the item still in her hands. "My lord, the weather is quite atrocious today and I would like to offer you this pair of gloves to keep warm." The King takes them, casting a look outside at the dismal downpour. 

"Thank you but, I don't think I'll be going outside the castle today." Iselda panics, the King was making no effort to disguise his lack of wedding ring and he would likely be spending the day with Merlin. Her fear of rumours spurs her on. 

"My lord, I fear the cold may have crept inside the castle too." Let him see it as her eager for her gift to be used but she wanted to protect him from talk. 

"Yes, quite." The King turns the gloves over, running calloused fingers over the stitchwork. He throws them onto Merlins' lap. "You need them more than me, you're all bone and no skin." Iselda wants to protest that Merlin had no need of the gloves but those warm looks, even as Merlin tuts and turns for the window, she can tell the staff will know even without the missing ring. 

"What would your majesty like to do today?" At least if she knew, she could divert the chattiest of staff away from them. To her delight both seem lost for ideas and she preens, ready to direct the day. 

-

Iselda was right about word spreading fast in the castle. 

"They're in the library." A maid titters, dunking clothes into scented water. 

"The Kings' servant can read?" Her friend asks, abandoning her own task to gawp. 

"Write, too. It sounded quite a serious discussion, perhaps I should take them some water. Poor lad was talking a mile a minute." She deliberated and her friend flings a sopping wet shirt at her. 

"He's the servant, you don't have to wait on him." Her friend reminds and the maid sighs. 

"Is he really? He can write and read, not to mention he hasn't slept down here since he arrived." She wrings the clothes, thinking. "Maybe he's a Lord? But the King kept threatening to put him in the stocks if he didn't get to his point."

In the kitchens, a cook laughs at the creation one of the underlings had made. The round ball of dough had gold straw for hair and blueberries for eyes. "He's not yours to be lookin' at." The cook wags their finger to the doe eyed youngster, who gleams with mischief. 

"I think he's avaliable again." She leans forward with glee circling her iris. "No ring."

The cook swats her off the table and starts removing her extras from the dough. "Even if he was avaliable, ain't nothing a smart mouthed cook like you gonna get his attention."

"Why not? He seems to like his insolent servants nice and freshly plucked." She says to the cooks chortle. 

"You mouth off to the King and get hanged all I care deary, just get the bread in the oven before you start swinging."

Even down to the armoury to two young boys, one wiping a cloth with burning arms over a dusty shield and the other struggling to hold a sword with both hands. 

"How many monsters d'you think he's killed?" The boy with the sword asks, heaving his arms up to try and balance the heavy weight. 

"D'you think he could kill Iselda if we ask nice." The boy cleaning the shield sneezes, the dust irritating him making his friend laugh. 

"He wouldn't kill a girl, dummy."

"Why not?" He asks in confusion. 

"He's married to one! My dad says when you marry a girl y'never hurt her."

"The King didn't come with the Queen though, that probably hurt her, right?" His friend doesn't seem to know. "So, he could kill Iselda." 

The other boy shrugs and gets back to pretending to fight off a big dragon like the King did. 

-

Iselda despite her efforts to keep the King and Merlin to the quieter levels of the castle, would inevitably see lingering figures at the door to the library or a sudden stop in conversation as she passed by them with the men in question - not that the two seemed to notice nor care. 

" _ Do you want to hold her?"  _

_ "It's not like a harmless baby Arthur! Look at it, it's got… got claws and a really sharp beak!" _

_ "Is that anyway to speak to a relative of yours? She's not dangerous, see?"  _

_ "You look like an idiot bouncing her up and down like th - ah!"  _

_ "That's her warning cry. Might be a bit peckish. Hold her, I'll get her a mouse." _

_ "Arthur don't leave me with this thing when it's hungry!"  _

_ "..." _

_ "What?" _

_ "You've faced so many horrible things with me, and this is what scares you. A falcon." _

_ "Yeah, your bedheads' more terrifying than she'll ever - ow! She bit me!"  _

After the library and falconry she had subtly tried to divide their days, offering the armoury for the King to peruse and Merlin seems more interested in a cabinet room that'd been locked for many years. The King wishes to attend the armoury alone and so it leaves Iselda to quietly take a chair, watching Merlin come alive within the stacks of old books. He whispers over their pages, bounding between one and the next, his eyes glowing in a way that must be part of the light. 

She sinks into her chair, cracking open her yellowed book, settling in as she'd done many a rainy day in the castle. The cabinet room is small and cozy, the fire tempting Merlin to sit in a chair near it, wiggling his shoes off and sunning his cold feet in the warmth. When she looks up from her book later, he had slouched into the chair with a light snore, the undefinable book sprawled on his chest. It didn't look comfortable to sleep that way. 

A creak of a door and the King appears, wiping sweat from his forehead. He wears a training shirt and from his lightly heaving chest and the flakes of straw, she assumes he'd met the training dummy in the armoury. He briefly meets Iseldas' eyes and she nods towards the sleeping man, who garners all his attention. The King is a large man in a small room, attempting to be silent for the sake of someone below his station. 

"Merlin." The King calls standing beside, before he crouches and deftly turns his unconscious face towards him with a small shake. Nothing happens so the King stays low, leevering the book off Merlins chest and gently placing it aside. "I have been asking a lot of you lately." The words are between them, his thumb skims some faintly raised scars on the back of Merlins' hand. She could swear to see a sliver of blue awaken under thick lashes but they're closed when the King looks to his face. 

He stands, looping an arm into the gap between Merlins' back and the chair, the other one swept under his extended legs. With a lift, the King has cradled the man to him with a concerned huff, "Skin and bone." He seems to whisper more words into the crown of the man's head, before turning for the door. 

Iselda makes no move to cover their movements, smiling tiredly into the palm of her hand as she continues to read. 

-

"Aileen!" She startles at the call of her name, spinning around in the hallway to see with alarm that the King was cradling an unconscious Merlin in his arms. 

"My lord, did something happen?" She frets, wondering if the King had caused said state of the man. Surely they had some smelling salts she could sneak to him later to make his escape. 

"Overworked himself, is all." The King smiles to the bundle in his arms, hefting the weight again. "Could you-?" He gestures his head and she jumps to it, opening the door to find a filled bath waiting. She shuts herself out and begins to walk away when there's a huge crash and gasp, noise coming alive inside the Kings' room. 

"ARTHUR!" Merlin shouts raggedly, fumbling for wakefulness, water splashing to the sound of the Kings breathless laughter. "You absolute prat!" 

"Merlin, I had to wake you up." Is the wheezing reply and the picture of tears being wiped away. "You have duties, remember."

"No, since you've already started me off in the bath, I'm taking the night off."

"That's not how it's ever worked, I  _ give _ you time off."

"Are we not a give and take relationship? Therefore I am  _ taking _ my time."

"At least take your clothes off if you're going to sully my bath water."

" _ Sire _ ." Merlin sounds about as scandalised as she feels. "Did you… already… my shoes?" The conversation fades as she hurries from the hallway. 

"No… burnt."

And the unmistakable, _"ARTHUR!"_ follows her to the servant quarters. 

-

"I think they're together." Reeve says in the settling of the evening, playing with Aileens' hand in the candle light. 

"Not a chance." And her hand slips away to start undoing her clothes for bed, swatting away Reeves' when they try to help. "Didn't you hear that he was dropped into a cold bath?" She laughs, making their pillows comfortable. 

"You know how I say, you are the nosebag to my hungry horse?"

"And I tell you that's as romantic as a wet sock." Aileen continues and Reeve smiles as understanding blooms on her face. "Oh." She falls back against the pillows with a frown. "If they are, what about the Queen? Isn't it heartless to abandon her like they did?" 

Reeve shrugs, only having spent time observing the two men involved. The meaningless banter and the protective fury that overcame them both at the slightest trigger. "They're not heartless men. Perhaps too much heart, is their problem." 

Aileen goes to speak over the door creaking open, her eyes becoming saucers. Reeve turns and stares at the arrival. 

"Merlin?" They question and as one, the eyes in the serving quarter all pin on the man wearing a fine sleep attire. He looks surprised at the attention, waving in relief at them on their bed. 

"Aileen, Reeve, hi! I heard there was a bed for me down here, somewhere?" He ducks into the low ceiling room, closing out the draft on his way in. 

"There is, it's just over here." Aileen replies, leaving Reeves limp arms to fuss over the bed that'd only been made to look slept in so far. He  _ had _ been sleeping in the Kings rooms then - she throws an arm over her face to hide her smile at Iseldas' plan to stop rumours becomes completely undone. 

Aileen had been ruffling the sheets before anyone awoke in the morning so that if Merlins' identity was a servant, there was some level of proof he'd slept downstairs with them. She had done the same in the room next to the Kings', but with Merlins' appearance here it likely meant he'd forgotten all about that extra room they'd made. His words only confirmed where he'd been staying the last few nights. "Not subtle at all." She quips, to his confusion. 

"Is everything alright?" Aileen asks, leaning towards him to whisper, "You're not usually down here."

"Yeah, things are just fine. Arthur said he wanted to think on his own, didn't want to get any injuries from it." Merlin laughs, climbing under the blankets with a relieved sigh. Reeve wonders if he knows that the King would likely be thinking  _ of _ him in his alone time. She can see the infatuated girl from the kitchen bouncing over with questions and idly raises her hair brush from beside their bed to point it at her, a warning. She sees it and retreats, the brush is lowered. 

"You scaring people off f'me?" Merlin asks sleepily, the blanket wrapped high on his shoulders. 

"She has a crush on the King." Reeve replies, opening her arms for Aileen to settle back into. "She's been holding off hounding you."

"As long as she doesn't use love potions or enchantments, she can try her luck. She wouldn't be the first." He huffs into his pillow. 

"How can anyone try?" Aileen laughs. "He's married to the Queen, they don't have a hope!" 

Reeve watches as Merlin blinks slowly, his nose scrunching to the side in a blink of emotion. "Yeah. Not a hope."


	5. turn the tide

Waking earlier than dawn, Aileen scrubs at her eyes and finds the bed Merlin had taken last night was empty. Glad to not make pretences that morning, she yawns and goes about cleaning the room next to the Kings. Working close to a grate in the wall, conversation filters through. 

"The staff noticed you're not wearing your rings." Merlin comments, light.

"I figured that out. Iselda wasn't exactly subtle with her gift." The King says with a rustle of fabric. 

"You don't care what will be said?" Merlins' voice rides on caution. 

"I've cared enough about what's already been said." The King doesn't seem to mean just the rumours stirred in the castle. "The rings remind me of everything that's been said, that's been done, to the people they're linked to." It was true, the Pendragon line had been fraught with dark magical influences as much as they had caused darkness with their own harm. The Queen had as much disaster by it, her father dead by accusation alone and her brother nearly killed from an enchanted sword. She pictures when she'd seen the King twirl the rings around his fingers, face deep in thought.

"It's too much to have on my mind. I don't want to have my responses stem from that, not when I'm listening and looking at you."

There's a quiet and then, "I don't mind you looking at me." Merlins' voice is fully amused, causing the King to laugh. 

"Merlin." Touched by fondness and a little warning.

"Will we ever talk about what you said to me… by the lake?" Merlin asks, in a way that has her question if there was some reasoning behind the lack of wedding ring. 

"One problem at a time." The King says after a long stretch. "There are so _many_ problems with you, aren't there?" It's fond, a yelp from Merlin as his hair is scuffed. "If I'd known you were going to hold it over my head so long, I'd not have said something so sentimental."

"They were your dying words!" Merlin sounds cheeky. "As I held you in my arms as you so _desired_ , my lord," A smack to the head and a bark of laughter from the hit. "Strange it was the same words you tell your knights in the trust building exercise, _just hold me-_ "

"Merlin!" The King shouts, startling her into action. "See if I ever show an emotion to you again."

"Even when you try that, I still get anger so it won't work. Might as well just let it all out, instead of buckling it up." A jangle of a belt coming undone, then of fabric being held up again. 

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Merlin makes a bewildered noise. "The curtains?" The King bites out and Merlin laughs going around to untie the bolsters. "Maybe I'll make unclothing your king before a courtyard a crime." 

"At least it's not in a Court this time." Merlin snickers. 

"That was magic?" Yet there's only whistles of innocence. "Another reason to keep it a crime." He mutters, but even Aileen doesn't believe he means his words. She hadn't really considered before that the King might change the laws for magic - no. He was changing the laws for Merlin. With all the Kings history with magic, she couldn't imagine this would be possible at all without Merlins' influence. 

"You are out of practice." Arthur comments, standing still presumably bare from the waist up as Merlin hunts for a shirt.

"I've been a _biiiit_ distracted by other things." She can't help but peer through the grate in the wall, where far from it, Merlin had just pulled on a shirt over the broad shoulders of the King. 

"And what would that be?" 

Merlin stares directly at the Kings' chest and utters, "Destiny." 

The King smacks his head again, light and harmless.

-

"The King wishes to see the petitions." Iselda tells the Warden in a hurry, having run at full tilt to get to his office room. 

"Interesting." The Warden chuckles, taking his time to unlock drawers of papers with an iron key, handing some over for the restless Iselda to sort through. "I thought he wouldn't have the time. Not with how wrapped up he's been with that serving boy." Sweat beaded on her forehead, she wipes it away with a distressed sigh. "No? I heard he slept in the serving quarters last night."

Iselda slides through weathered reports, piling the most important together. "He has a royal seal." The Warden fumbles his quill to the floor. He'd just picked it up when she adds, "Queen Ygraines' seal." Then he's crouched on the floor searching for it again. He emerges with a heavy lean back in his chair, sharing an incredulous look with her. 

"Well then." And he stops. Iselda doesn't believe there's anything he could say now that she hadn't lost sleep over already. "There's more to that boy than we thought." 

"I don't know what to think anymore. In fact, I'd quite like to stop thinking and just get some kind of answer but should I ask anything wrong, I don't want to face the wrath of the King. Best to let our assumptions hide until either of them are ready to speak on the matter." Though with how hesitant Aileen and Reeve had been to confess what they'd seen, she doubts it a simple matter of titles involved. 

"What do we know about him? Besides his… lets say, devotion to the King."

"He was a physicians' apprentice in Camelot, quite good at it too if the healed ailments of my staff are anything to go by. Before that he must have worked the farms, the village farmer caught me yesterday to sing his praises. Someplace called Ealdor." Iselda supplies, finalising the petitions that must be seen by the King. She moves to leave when the Warden straightens in his chair. 

"Ealdor." He taps his quill. "That village always managed to make it through the toughest of winters and never flooded, despite being surrounded by rivers." 

"What are you implying?" Iselda frowns as the Warden stands and retrieves some very carefully hidden complaints. "I can't bring those to the King." She refuses instantly, clutching the ones she already held closer. The Warden holds them out, insistently. 

"He's not Uther." The Warden reminds patiently. "And if he is, put the blame on me for mixing the piles together." 

Pinching the corner of the hidden petitions like fire, she puts them to the bottom of the pile and feels them burn at her hands as she carries them towards the King. 

-

On the ground floor of the castle, a well sized room had its opulent curtains drawn back and tied to columns. The light picked up minor imperfections in the room but they faded as the day drew on. The scratches on the table became darker with spilled ink, one royal occupant mocking the other for clumsiness. They sat at carved wooden chairs, beside each other and across from those wishing to speak with the King. 

Many had been beyond nervous and lost their heart, before Merlin had prompted them, keeping track of the slowly dwindling papers and making changes as it happened. For the two, it was no different from a day in court. Woes were shared and changes made - but for the people, it was a momentus day, their long standing quarrels or grievances cleared in mere seconds. 

"I had no idea arguments about pigs could last so long." The King breathes out, his hands behind his head in a moment of rest. 

"I don't know. We've had some pretty long arguments - oh! You said about pigs, not _with_ them." Merlin waits with a flickering smile before looking at the unimpressed King. 

"Court Jester is still a title I'm considering. So you're aware." The King warns. 

"Done with being King already?" Merlin begins to tease and that's when Iselda has the courage to break her silence. 

"Your majesty, would you like to finish with the petitions for the day?" She puts the metal pitcher of water just in front of the last few, the ones that made her palms sweat on the jugs handle. 

"What do you say, Merlin." He asks as he rubs a hand over his eyes, Merlin taking the petitions and his mirth fades. Iselda meets his eyes and she gives the smallest shake of her head but Merlin twists away, sliding the papers to the King and tapping them. 

"A few more and then we can leave with nothing hanging over our heads." Iseldas surprised by the cheer in his voice, absent from him only moments before. She had been alarmed how easily they bundled themselves together with "our". It was about our dinner later, or our trip back tomorrow. The King made the final call on these petitions but referred to Merlin so much it became a decision made by them both. 

"Bring him in." Iselda stops her musing and introduces the two men to a greying man and his wife, their clothes starched with few washes. She knew of their situation and watched the proceedings warily, ready to do as asked. 

"What's troubling you?" The King asks them directly, to their surprise. The man scratches behind his ear unsurely. "I know it's written here but, I rather hear it from you." While it was certainly charming for the King to ask, it doubled as a tactic because if they couldn't remember their concern, it likely wasn't important and could be dropped. This one, she knew was not forgettable. 

"Y'majesty." The man and his wife give a bow before sitting down. The wife pats his arm and he seems to draw strength from it. "Back thirty odd years ago, your King Uther came here with his knights. They were so loud in this castle we could hear their belches off our pigs." The man chuckles and the King makes a half amused smirk, his eyes still intense in focus. "They wanted some fun in the village and while they was there, they started causin' us trouble." Now he was beginning to let anger waver in his voice. "They accused our lovely daughter of - of witchcraft and they burnt our house to the ground. We've been living in our sties ever since, and we're still working on repairing our home. We want to ask for reparations." The man finishes firmly, clear his anger had knocked aside his nerves. 

The King is pensive. The furrow in his brow serious, the blue of his eyes an unclear view of his emotions. Conflicted, seems the apt word. He leans forward a little, his head bowed, before Merlins' hand rests encouragingly on his shoulder. He draws strength from it to meet the man's eyes. 

"I am sorry that you ever suffered under the rule of my father. I was blind to the hatred he ruled with for so long over sorcerery, he would take any accusation as fact at its earliest." He links his hands together without breaking his magnetic hold on the conversation. "You will have any support you need to rebuild your livelihood here and until those supports can be made, you can have rooms in the castle should you wish. I will make it law that anyone suffered from the war on sorcery shall have reparations made."

Shock makes them silent. Here, in a room untouched by royalty for many years, in a village still impacted by its last rulers hatred for magic - it was here that King Arthur Pendragon turned the tide for magic in Camelot. 

The significance makes Iseldas' heart sing but Merlin, he might break into song with the happiness radiating from him. It must shine on the man and his wife, their tense shoulders fall back in disbelief. "We… thank you." 

The King rises as they do, saying their farewells and only sitting back heavily as the door clicks shut. 

"Merlin." His voice is crowded with a strong and deep emotion, a whirl of regret and fury. "If I ever become like my father, make sure no one suffers the way that couple had to. They're not the only ones are they? That suffered so horribly under his rule?" He looks to Merlin, as if he could tell him any different from the truth. He breathes out harshly, his hands scrubbing at his face. 

Merlin touches the Kings nape, holding there in comfort as the crownless man bows his head. "His rule ended. What you've done, it'll help pave the way for true peace in the Kingdom. You did good." 

The King nods, returning to his posture and smiling quickly at Merlin so his hand drops. 

"So… when am I getting my reparations?" Merlin asks expectantly. His foot gets stomped under the table with a hissed laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE FEEDBACK!! ;W;  
> i rly didn't expect this much of a response for this dumb fic?? it really means a lot and thank you for staying through this writing lol
> 
> i have one more chapter to inflict on you all then im writing the next part of this series! thank you so much again and hope you're all well <33


	6. fare thee well

The Kings decision had spread faster than a crack of lightning. The farmer man and his wife had delighted in their good news at the tavern, speaking in disbelief to their friends who would share in shock the story all the way across the fields, back to the bellows of the Pendragon Keep kitchens. 

"The King made that promise?" Aileen whispers, fingers shaking her platter so wildly she had to set it down. The reparations needed in this village alone for harm done by the war on sorcery would be a dent in the castles coffers - for _everyone_ affected in the Kingdom of Camelot? Her hand covers her mouth. 

"They're going to go broke." Reeve comments cheerfully, biting into her apple with a grin. "That is a huge impact from only a small decision." She chews her bite thoughtfully. "And still it seems… not a lot."

Aileen knew her partner well enough to travel the same routes in her mind. The reparations would do much, it'd help families that for generations had been hurt under Uthers' cruel reign. Yet, it couldn't heal everything. Promises of money and better future couldn't bring back their dead. "You still think about him?" 

"How can I not?" Reeve says harshly, a sharp dip in her brow. "The King being here has him haunting my head." There had been a third with them, their fateful night in the forests near this castle. They had sheltered a young boy who, for no good reason, had been hurt for supposed magic use. Escaping with him under fire of arrows and glints of swords, they'd been devastated that the Druids could not save him. 

"He's a good man." Aileen tries to sound sure but the image of the boys face blurs her conviction. 

"We want to believe it so badly, don't we. That King Arthur is the leader we've waited our lives for, that we can accept the decisions he makes that'll change our futures." She spins the remains of the apple core. "Yet I can't forget the past that granted him the throne. I want to trust him, but how?" 

"If you can't trust in him yet - trust in Merlin." Aileen advises. "He's risked everything, being who he is, so close to the King. I can't believe he would do that under such clear rules of execution, unless he truly trusted the King with his life."

"You forget a crucial point." Reeve throws the core into the pen, they watch together as a piebald horse noses it in interest. "Merlin has given his heart to the King." And so, his life mattered little. 

"He must believe he's entrusted it to the right person, though I see how it could turn sour. It's not as if the King returns his feelings." Until this point, they'd been aligned in pondering how to trust the King but from Reeves curious frown, she can tell they've strayed onto different paths of thinking. "He's married to the Queen."

"If the Druids taught us anything, it was that love is not bound by rings or words. It's a force of nature that can't be tethered by traditions - look closer, you'll see." 

"See what?" 

"That Merlin isn't alone in giving his heart away."

-

The Kings' chamber is dark when Aileen comes with a tray of breakfast foods. She'd grown used to meeting Merlin with his rumpled dark hair and half awake smile, drawing back the curtains with his quiet chatter until it was time to wake the King. Today, the sun is kept out as if they were clinging as long as possible to the night.

Deciding to help, she slips past the partition and into the area filled with light snores, being as quiet as she can when drawing back the thick curtains. Dawn falls across the bed, bathing the two sculpture-still figures in light. They didn't sleep in a lovers embrace, but like protectors, their backs to each other as if the four postered bed was a forest floor. Close together, suggesting the thick layers of duvets over them couldn't provide enough warmth. 

They could be anyone, asleep without the pressure of a Kingdom weighing down the Kings' shoulders or the wariness that kept Merlin alert to the slightest warning. She approaches the side of the sleeping black haired man and his face wavers into the boy she'd tried to save from being killed. _I hope he knows what he's doing._

Distracted, she completely forgets Iseldas' warning about the bedside drawers. Her mind deliberating waking Merlin up so he can prepare for their travel or allowing him the rest, her hand drifts on instinct across the drawer handles and opens it with a tug - inside is a golden ring and a royal sigil. 

Her jaw slackens with surprise, the finery of the gold and the elegant carvings of the sigil, clearly such loved and cherished items. A pale hand pushes the drawer shut, Aileen jumps away in shock at the awoken Merlins' wary eyes on her. She feels such shame for prying, however accidental, rushing to apologise - but Merlin stops her words with a finger to his lips. 

The King had moved, curled a bare and thick arm around Merlins' side, his wedding band on his ring finger. The hand twitches and Aileen realises at the same point Merlin does that the King was on the cusp of waking. Merlin juts his head to the partition and she hurries to hide behind it. Part of her knows this would be her last chance to warn Merlin and lingers behind the partition. 

Merlin sits up against the headboard, watching over the King. He spreads his palm out towards the bed pan keeping their feet warm, with an uttering of ancient words the bed rumbles. A shape prowls under the covers, its reptilian head emerging with a huff of orange sparks and ash, shaking its crumbling wings. It's a dragon seemingly made of the coals of the bed pan, flaking black specks as it stalks a circle on the resting bare chest of the King. 

Merlin taps its head gently with a finger, it preens under the attention and let's out a happy breath of fire that has the Kings' eyes flashing open. 

He looks, as anyone might to find a small dragon on fire covering their chest, a bit panicked. "Merlin." He strains, not looking away from the small beast. "I hope you can explain this." 

"Yeah, it's payback."

"I just woke up!" 

"And how many times did you wake me up by having your dog slobbering all over me?" Merlin laughs in return, scritching under the dragons' chin who chirps with a flicker of fire that the King rears his head away from.

"Why is it not burning me?" The King asks, his hand hovering and backing away from touching the flaking ash body of the dragon. 

"It's made from my magic - it doesn't want to hurt you." 

"Just terrify me awake." The King says dryly. 

"Yeah." Merlin smiles at the King, taking his hesitating hand and lying it flat on the dragons back - it's delighted and rolls over to show its stomach in a sign of pure trust. 

The King and Merlin lie in their warm cocoon of duvets and furs, tucked close together with this magic dragon and its' happy sounds. Merlin pokes the creatures side, playing a game with it as the King looks up at him. 

It's an endless look, filled by years of stories and sadness - a yearning so strong it reaches through the very roots of the earth, through it's molten core and desperately seeking the sun on the other side. 

"I don't want to go back." the King murmurs, not allowing his bedfellow to meet his soulful gaze, focusing on holding the dragons' small limbs timidly. Merlin seems on the verge of suggesting something - perhaps selfishly, he wanted to keep the king locked in the keep too. He shakes his head slightly, as if ignoring such an idea.

"Gwen will execute you for making her rule alone for any longer than she already has." He says instead. 

"She can't murder me, I'm the King." The sovereign grumbles. 

"The people like her better, she'd win the trial." Merlin continues with a tut of disappointment. He pushes off the covers and hops from the bed, pulling on his shirt. "Up we get."

"Uh, what am I supposed to do with this?" The King asks, pointing to the dragon on his chest. Merlin considers something and then with a flash of orange ringed iris, the dragon disintegrates into a huge dusty pile of ash that puffs into the Kings face. 

_"Merlin!"_ the King shouts through his sudden mouthful of dust. 

Aileen had been backing away and slowly opening the door as the scene unfolded. She was safely in the hallway when the sound of laughter and thrown objects begins. She had seen with her own eyes, knew now that there was a fate so woven between them, any cautious words would be as effective as a broken needle. 

-

_On their last day at the Pendragon Keep, the King Pendragon and ~~Merlin, Lord Merlin, his servant Merlin~~_

Iselda puts the feather back into its inkwell, she knew she should leave it alone but it was a mystery she wished to solve. With how many details she'd recorded of the King and Merlins' stay in her ledger, she supposes this counted as a sensitive document that should be placed in the vaults. 

A repetitive thud on the door makes her stand, bowing quickly upon sight of the King. He had dressed in his riding clothes, his silver links of chainmail under a blue travelling cloak - she had hoped to see him in the regal reds of Camelot but she understood the need for subtlety on the return journey. "Your majesty."

"Iselda, we will be heading back for Camelot soon. I wanted to sign those remaining documents before we left." The King explains, glancing around the room with as little interest he had his own.

"Of course, your majesty, they're on my desk." He moves from the doorway towards where she'd left the spoken of documents along with the well of ink used to stamp. Like a string tying them together, Merlin goes with the King to the desk - his sharp blue eyes running along the shelves of old books, the yellowing documents, following dust that got caught in rays of sun through the windows. A smile reaches his eyes, reading Iseldas' passage in the ledger. He picks up the feather and lightly squabbles with the King for use of the inkwell, before he scratches in some words. 

Iselda tightens her hands, withholding herself from peering in the ledger, until the King looks up from his papers with a half smile. "All done." He clarifies with relief, putting the stamp back with a flourish. With that, his business with the castle was finished and he strides from her office with his cloak trailing behind his powerful steps. 

She would see the King off and hear his parting words, but now her curiosity can not be contained and she looks over the ledgers entry. 

_On their last day at the Pendragon Keep, the King Pendragon and ~~Merlin, Lord Merlin, his servant Merlin~~ his Dragonlord Merlin had a lovely time and would recommend the castle to any passing Lords to enjoy Iseldas' accommodations. Arthur won't say it but he's thankful for what you tried to do for us, so I'll say it for him - thank you. _

"You know dragons?" Iselda breathes in shock, her mouth agape, turning the leaving Merlins' attention to her. All the strange occurrences she'd chalked up to her exhaustion had been magic. In this castle, magic! She can scarcely believe it! 

"I do." Merlin replies easily, as if it was becoming second nature, as naturally as he called the King Pendragon by his real name. He looks out the hallway where the golden haired sovereign marched ahead. "Sometimes, if he's lucky, I call him Arthur."

-

"It's been nice having you. I know a few mares that will miss you." Reeve speaks to the mount from Camelot, stroking it's nose as they wait for the leaving couple to arrive. "Don't be afraid to buck your rider and come back to us."

"That's treasonous of you." Merlin teases as he attaches a sword hilt to the horses saddle. "I won't tell Arthur you said that."

"Maybe I was talking to you." Reeve replies with a smile. "I know it's a great distance between here and Camelot but, I hope we meet again." She holds out her hand for him to shake. "That is, if the King let's you go."

Merlin grins bashfully, taking her hand. "Think I'm stuck with him." Reeve feels a band of something press into her palm and steadies the hold for a moment to ensure she's correct. Merlin was wearing the Kings fine golden ring on his index finger. 

It should be out of place, such an ornate piece on his well worn hands - if she hadn't witnessed or spoken to the couple enough, she might have thought he'd stolen it. Yet she knew, it was not simply a ring that Merlin had stolen from the King. She releases her curious hold. 

"For better or for worse." 

The King had finished his polite leaving words to the gathered staff of the castle, there doesn't seem to be a dry eye among those that had their affections and loyalties captured by the charming man. On his approach, Reeve steadies his mount until he had swung up onto the saddle, where she hands the reigns to him. 

To her surprise, the King reaches out a gloved palm to her. She glances to his earnest face, shadowed by the overhead sun. With a nod, she matches his firm grip and in doing so accepts that her heart had also been caught. "I trust you." 

It shouldn't matter, she's a groom, a stable hand, in the furthest castle possible from Camelot. Her loyalties would not affect the King in the slightest and yet, his face softens with thankfulness and a twitch of a wondrous smile. 

"I won't betray that trust." He promises, covering Reeves hand once before reigning his mount into action. The well cared for steed swings to face the castle for the last time, as its rider spares it a fond glance. The King raises his hand in farewell, a chorus of well wishes in reply. 

Merlin mocks the royal farewell to a titter of laughter, though some gasps flit through the crowd - the sun had caught on the golden ring they'd come to see as owned by the King. Catching sight of Iselda, she appears faint and she could swear to see new grey hair appearing on her head. 

Reeve steps back to hold Aileens hand, the one she wasn't using to wave goodbye. "They're going to change Camelot." Her love must have seen as she had and she soothes over her ring finger, bringing it up to kiss. 

"They are."

"The King and his…" Aileen still wasn't sure what to call them. 

Reeves' eyes gleam, raising her hand to cast goodbyes on the retreating figures. "His Merlin."

Together they wave, as the once unknown men leaving the castle with bright promises fade into the distance, taking the loyalty of Pendragon Keep with them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you /so much/ for taking the time to read this story and especially thank you to EVERYONE that's left a comment or bookmarked this it's really meant so, so much to have these little milestones met - i really can't believe it!! ;w; I'll get sappy thinking about it to much but THANK YOU <33 
> 
> I hope so much that you liked this story, I had a lot of fun writing it! i plan to upload the second part of this series (outsider pov but back in camelot~) at some point! 
> 
> thank you thank you thank you <33


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